When I fell pregnant with our 3rd child we realised that our old 1989 Holden Barina was not going to fit a baby seat, a booster seat and a 10 year old comfortably in the back, not to mention carting a pram, port-a-cot, nappy bag, kitchen sink etc etc etc so we started the search for new wheels.
This search lasted months because we wanted a 4x4 type vehicle, low km, under $30K and not white. We had our hearts set on either a Toyota Prado or a Mitsubishi Pajero until we saw the Toyota Kluger which we fell in love with because it had everything we wanted and it was new BUT was way out of our price range.
We scoured our local papers, the weekend newspapers, our free paper the Quokka and just couldnt find the right vehicle for us, they were either too expensive, had too many km's or were white. We hate white cars.... boring.
My work was chaotic, worse than chaotic, it was insane and I was stressed to the max not to mention 25 or so weeks pregnant and not coping very well. Just thought I'd throw that one in, you'll get the relevance later.
Seeing as we couldnt buy local Dave extended the search online, right across Australia!
One morning while we are both at work he emails me a link to a 2003 Toyota Kluger which was priced at the upper end of our price limit but had done low km's, was gold and had everything we wanted. It was perfect except for the fact that it was in Sydney and we were in Perth!
We discuss this car over the course of a couple of days and basically make no real decision about a purchase until........
several days later my husband turns up at the door to my office and says "Come see the car I just bought" and takes off towards the front door! I blindly follow him to a white Kluger where I speechlessly ask him (yes I know I can do amazing things) who's car is this?, what are you doing with it? who's car is this? He strings me along for a while telling me it is ours when he suddenly realises that his rather pregnant for a third time and over it wife has had enough and really needs to be let in on the joke.
He purchased the gold Kluger in Sydney sight unseen, undriven, uninspected, un un un un everything. Wow he has never done anything that scary before..... or has he, he probably has but I have selective amnesia and choose not to remember.
We still have the car, it is as perfect as a car gets, we love it. I love it, it is MINE!
04 April 2007
Conversation with Tyler aged 4.8
“I like your shiny hair mum” he says to me as he is stroking the back of my head. And it is true I do have shiny hair as do lots of women with very straight, very dark hair. I get lots of comments from random people who tell me I have shiny hair. I get told I have white teeth too. Strange but true. He then continued with
“and you have nice boobies too” as he gives my right boob a rub. Thanks Ty, not sure about the appropriateness of you telling me so but thanks anyway.
The husband and I had a good laugh at his expense.
“and you have nice boobies too” as he gives my right boob a rub. Thanks Ty, not sure about the appropriateness of you telling me so but thanks anyway.
The husband and I had a good laugh at his expense.
Curiouser and Curiouser
Here’s something that doesn’t happen everyday. I have recently returned to work after being on maternity leave for the past 16 months. I have returned to a job in one of the Divisional offices at the University I work. The Division has recently merged with another Division so a few things are still up in the air such as where I will call home on a permanent basis – or which desk is mine.
I have been given temporary residence in the back corner of a largish open plan office. All is good except that I keep knocking my feet on the numerous boxes stored under my desk. Being that this is not MY desk and that its previous owner is likely to return I have not disturbed or looked at these boxes presuming them to contain paperwork relating to other peoples jobs or even perhaps shockingly enough that they contain the envelopes their box claims to hold.
Today I kicked my toe for the last time; I took the bold move and ventured under my desk, in amongst the dust bunnies, tiny bits of uneaten sandwich, chocolate and chips, lost paperclips, used staples and the odd thumb tack. I located the source of my discomfort and dragged four small boxes, 3 of standard envelope size and one photocopy paper size. The photocopy box contained as I suspected paperwork so I shoved it back whence it came. (Whence is a great word isn’t it?) I opened the first of the envelope boxes; I was greeted by a family of shiny silvery silver fish who I promptly eliminated. RIP Silverfish family. To my shock and amazement the box contained…. Queue dramatic music dum dum dah…… a brick! I quickly opened the remaining two boxes anticipation filling my very soul. Two more bricks!
Now why on earth would someone want 3 boxes filled with bricks under their desk…… Never fear as I know you will be as troubled as I was at this bizarre turn of events, I promise dear reader to put my Sherlock Holmes skills to good use and unearth what has become known as “The Mystery of the Bricks in Envelope Boxes”
Stay tuned, all will be revealed.
I have been given temporary residence in the back corner of a largish open plan office. All is good except that I keep knocking my feet on the numerous boxes stored under my desk. Being that this is not MY desk and that its previous owner is likely to return I have not disturbed or looked at these boxes presuming them to contain paperwork relating to other peoples jobs or even perhaps shockingly enough that they contain the envelopes their box claims to hold.
Today I kicked my toe for the last time; I took the bold move and ventured under my desk, in amongst the dust bunnies, tiny bits of uneaten sandwich, chocolate and chips, lost paperclips, used staples and the odd thumb tack. I located the source of my discomfort and dragged four small boxes, 3 of standard envelope size and one photocopy paper size. The photocopy box contained as I suspected paperwork so I shoved it back whence it came. (Whence is a great word isn’t it?) I opened the first of the envelope boxes; I was greeted by a family of shiny silvery silver fish who I promptly eliminated. RIP Silverfish family. To my shock and amazement the box contained…. Queue dramatic music dum dum dah…… a brick! I quickly opened the remaining two boxes anticipation filling my very soul. Two more bricks!
Now why on earth would someone want 3 boxes filled with bricks under their desk…… Never fear as I know you will be as troubled as I was at this bizarre turn of events, I promise dear reader to put my Sherlock Holmes skills to good use and unearth what has become known as “The Mystery of the Bricks in Envelope Boxes”
Stay tuned, all will be revealed.
28 March 2007
Remote Madness
The worst thing on earth that can happen to a TV junkie happened to me yesterday. The remote controls went walk-about and didn’t return. Here’s how this thrilling story unfolded.
Every night when I switch off my beloved TV I put the remote controls on either the arm of my chair, the top of a set of cane drawers or in their rightful place in the top drawer of said cane drawers. Night before last it was the arm of my chair. Now we have several remotes of importance. Most important is the DVD remote as that also operates the TV, second is the set-top box/PVR remote and lastly the TV remote. ALL 3 went missing at once.
The children always wake before me and have been trained to quietly turn on the TV and sit quietly and watch. To wake mum before time is to die a slow horrible death, they learnt very quickly. The children are starting to argue over nothing and from what I can gather some form of disagreement broke out over the remotes.
The children went off to school as per normal and I settled into the daily grind at home with Cooper. As per usual once Cooper was napping I went to turn on the TV so I could watch some rubbish recorded from the nights before.
HORRORS – I had no remotes.
I searched the house high and low, I searched toy boxes, I searched the kitchen, lounge, my bed, the kids beds, the laundry, everywhere all to no avail. I called David at work several times to quiz him on their whereabouts. He asked had I looked here?, there?, everywhere? By this stage I was getting withdrawals and was quite frantic. It was obvious that the children had lost them (as they often do). I decided that I would pull them out of school to come home and find my remotes. David forbade me. So instead as soon as I heard the siren for recess (the upside of living across the road from the school) I ran over and found someone in Broden's class, got them to find him. He informed me that “Tyler was the last to have them.” I then phoned the Kindy (on another matter of course) and asked the teacher to ask Ty what he had done with them. “Broden was the last to have them” was his reply. Grrrrrrrrrrr
I don’t think I have conveyed quite how desperate and frustrated and angry and frustrated I was to not be able to operate my TV. I had crap to watch, what else would I do, it not as if there were any housework or washing or ironing that needed doing.
The children came home from school and I put them straight to work but no amount of yelling could make them find the unfindable.
David came home from work and said “I got you some flowers”, in my wonderful mood I growled “why’d you get flowers for” as I turned around to see him standing with a 6 pack of bourbon & cola. Oh that man deserves a medal or perhaps something a little more interesting………
He then starts his search of the house and comes up empty handed. I am close to tears now, nearly 12 hours and my remotes are still lost. Then just as all seemed hopeless my hubby picks up a jacket belonging to the middle child to put it in the wash and bingo, out tumble all 3 remote controls safe and well and no worse for their horrible ordeal.
A wonderful evening of junky TV viewing was greatly enjoyed last night and the children have been banned from touching the remote controls for the rest of their lives.
Every night when I switch off my beloved TV I put the remote controls on either the arm of my chair, the top of a set of cane drawers or in their rightful place in the top drawer of said cane drawers. Night before last it was the arm of my chair. Now we have several remotes of importance. Most important is the DVD remote as that also operates the TV, second is the set-top box/PVR remote and lastly the TV remote. ALL 3 went missing at once.
The children always wake before me and have been trained to quietly turn on the TV and sit quietly and watch. To wake mum before time is to die a slow horrible death, they learnt very quickly. The children are starting to argue over nothing and from what I can gather some form of disagreement broke out over the remotes.
The children went off to school as per normal and I settled into the daily grind at home with Cooper. As per usual once Cooper was napping I went to turn on the TV so I could watch some rubbish recorded from the nights before.
HORRORS – I had no remotes.
I searched the house high and low, I searched toy boxes, I searched the kitchen, lounge, my bed, the kids beds, the laundry, everywhere all to no avail. I called David at work several times to quiz him on their whereabouts. He asked had I looked here?, there?, everywhere? By this stage I was getting withdrawals and was quite frantic. It was obvious that the children had lost them (as they often do). I decided that I would pull them out of school to come home and find my remotes. David forbade me. So instead as soon as I heard the siren for recess (the upside of living across the road from the school) I ran over and found someone in Broden's class, got them to find him. He informed me that “Tyler was the last to have them.” I then phoned the Kindy (on another matter of course) and asked the teacher to ask Ty what he had done with them. “Broden was the last to have them” was his reply. Grrrrrrrrrrr
I don’t think I have conveyed quite how desperate and frustrated and angry and frustrated I was to not be able to operate my TV. I had crap to watch, what else would I do, it not as if there were any housework or washing or ironing that needed doing.
The children came home from school and I put them straight to work but no amount of yelling could make them find the unfindable.
David came home from work and said “I got you some flowers”, in my wonderful mood I growled “why’d you get flowers for” as I turned around to see him standing with a 6 pack of bourbon & cola. Oh that man deserves a medal or perhaps something a little more interesting………
He then starts his search of the house and comes up empty handed. I am close to tears now, nearly 12 hours and my remotes are still lost. Then just as all seemed hopeless my hubby picks up a jacket belonging to the middle child to put it in the wash and bingo, out tumble all 3 remote controls safe and well and no worse for their horrible ordeal.
A wonderful evening of junky TV viewing was greatly enjoyed last night and the children have been banned from touching the remote controls for the rest of their lives.
25 March 2007
A Breastfeeding Story - You were warned!
We have been teaching Cooper, my baby about hot things and how you blow on hot food to cool it down. I am never too sure how much is being picked up as kids never seem to let on if they got the message or not.
Here’s the bit where if you don’t want to hear about breastfeeding then it is time to look away…….
I was giving Cooper his only breastfeed of the day – right before bed time. He was happily feeding away as he does – loves his boob this boy. All of a sudden he pulled away and the cheeky little devil starts blowing on my nipple. It is so cute the way babies blow with their mouth half open, lots of spittle everywhere. He then looks up to me with a grin that said I know it isn’t hot but I’m funny aren’t I mum? Of course he was so he tried it again and again and again coz the joke never gets old when you are only 15 months old.
Here’s the bit where if you don’t want to hear about breastfeeding then it is time to look away…….
I was giving Cooper his only breastfeed of the day – right before bed time. He was happily feeding away as he does – loves his boob this boy. All of a sudden he pulled away and the cheeky little devil starts blowing on my nipple. It is so cute the way babies blow with their mouth half open, lots of spittle everywhere. He then looks up to me with a grin that said I know it isn’t hot but I’m funny aren’t I mum? Of course he was so he tried it again and again and again coz the joke never gets old when you are only 15 months old.
16 March 2007
Gobsmacked
I want to recount a short conversation I just had with my 4 year old. We were in the car just Tyler, Cooper and myself, we were coming home from getting a few groceries. All very ordinary stuff.
Ty: "Mum?"
Me: "Yes, Ty?"
Riveting stuff hey?
Ty: "Have you ever made love in the back seat of a car?"
Now had I been eating I would have choked, as it was I nearly drove off the road and hit some old duck on a bike!
At first my mouth just fell open, I thought perhaps I had heard wrong so I asked for a repeat.
Ty: "Have you ever made love in the back seat of a car?"
Nope heard it right the first time, it didnt get better the second time either. By this time I was nearly wetting myself silently laughing, I had tears streaming down my face and I'm sure I was shaking so hard that the car could have moved by itself.
Me: "um, where did you heard that sweetheart?"
Ty: "Oh it is in my second favourite song. My favourite song is Max, max, max dont have sex with your ex"
Now I am delirious with mirth, this is too much too bear, I had to blog.
This will teach my husband for giving the children old 80's and 90's CDs to listen too!
Ty: "Mum?"
Me: "Yes, Ty?"
Riveting stuff hey?
Ty: "Have you ever made love in the back seat of a car?"
Now had I been eating I would have choked, as it was I nearly drove off the road and hit some old duck on a bike!
At first my mouth just fell open, I thought perhaps I had heard wrong so I asked for a repeat.
Ty: "Have you ever made love in the back seat of a car?"
Nope heard it right the first time, it didnt get better the second time either. By this time I was nearly wetting myself silently laughing, I had tears streaming down my face and I'm sure I was shaking so hard that the car could have moved by itself.
Me: "um, where did you heard that sweetheart?"
Ty: "Oh it is in my second favourite song. My favourite song is Max, max, max dont have sex with your ex"
Now I am delirious with mirth, this is too much too bear, I had to blog.
This will teach my husband for giving the children old 80's and 90's CDs to listen too!
26 January 2007
Hong Kong - the journey home Part 3
Have you ever been to Hong Kong airport? Let me tell you compared to our dinky little Perth airport it is massive. Not to mention the walk from the hotel to the train station, the changing trains and the subsequent walk from the train to the correct terminal. Ouch by this time my poor foot is agony.
Another really great thing about Hong Kong is that you can check in to you flight at Central Station. They have check in desks just like a normal airport. You put your luggage through, you show your passport, tickets etc and you get your boarding pass then you jump back on a train and take a ½ hour ride to the airport. Very clever I though, plus you can check in anytime on the day you depart so if your hotel kicks you out at 10am and your flight isn’t until midnight you can check your luggage and go off shopping for the day and rock up at 10pm to catch you flight. Just brilliant!
So we arrive at the airport. Information in the middle of the terminal just to our right, Qantas to the right of that and our departure gate to the far left. By now I am being overtaken by decrepit looking 90 year olds so we decide to see about getting me a wheel chair so that we have some mobility around the airport. Our life was just about to get even more fun. In Perth that would be it, here’s your wheel chair now bugger off. In Hong Kong it is “Please follow me to the Qantas desk” While we were at the Help desk I asked for a bandage to strap my ankle. The young lady comes back with a bandaid. Hehehehehe, holding back the giggles I explain that I need a bandage, a long stretchy cloth to wrap around my ankle to help with swelling and she kindly brings out some gauze. She was trying to be helpful. I figure we will stop at a chemist on the way to the departure lounge.
At the Qantas desk there is much inspecting of my very swollen ankle – the hunchback of Notre Dame would have been impressed with the swelling! I am not an animal. Even more talking on the walkie talkie and the telephone. I am given the only chair available and we are asked to wait a minute. Eventually a man comes with a wheelchair, I plonk myself into it and grab for Cooper. No, no, no I must not carry the baby on my lap, but I can cart 3 carry on suitcases and a hand bag that is OK but not the baby. Dave goes to push me and NO, NO, NO, the man is a specified wheel chair pusher and will not give it up. He takes off rather briskly and deposits us at immigration. WAIT we are told. Guess we aren’t going on the tour of the airport then!
Our party, a colleague of Dave’s was also with us were put through the back door of immigration, me still being pushed in my chair, effectively jumping a very long queue. We then get escorted to the departure gate and are given priority boarding onto the plane. No waiting in queues, this wheelchair thing is a great!!!!!!! Temporarily of course.
Our flight went off without a hitch; we all slept a little, ate a little and drunk a little – OK well more than a little.
Back in Perth, despite being told not to the Qantas staff had arranged a wheelchair to meet the plane for me. I was last off the plane but got express service through customs and immigration again so beat most of the passengers out of the terminal.
It was wonderful to be back home with my boys and hope one day to return to Hong Kong and take the kids with us.
Another really great thing about Hong Kong is that you can check in to you flight at Central Station. They have check in desks just like a normal airport. You put your luggage through, you show your passport, tickets etc and you get your boarding pass then you jump back on a train and take a ½ hour ride to the airport. Very clever I though, plus you can check in anytime on the day you depart so if your hotel kicks you out at 10am and your flight isn’t until midnight you can check your luggage and go off shopping for the day and rock up at 10pm to catch you flight. Just brilliant!
So we arrive at the airport. Information in the middle of the terminal just to our right, Qantas to the right of that and our departure gate to the far left. By now I am being overtaken by decrepit looking 90 year olds so we decide to see about getting me a wheel chair so that we have some mobility around the airport. Our life was just about to get even more fun. In Perth that would be it, here’s your wheel chair now bugger off. In Hong Kong it is “Please follow me to the Qantas desk” While we were at the Help desk I asked for a bandage to strap my ankle. The young lady comes back with a bandaid. Hehehehehe, holding back the giggles I explain that I need a bandage, a long stretchy cloth to wrap around my ankle to help with swelling and she kindly brings out some gauze. She was trying to be helpful. I figure we will stop at a chemist on the way to the departure lounge.
At the Qantas desk there is much inspecting of my very swollen ankle – the hunchback of Notre Dame would have been impressed with the swelling! I am not an animal. Even more talking on the walkie talkie and the telephone. I am given the only chair available and we are asked to wait a minute. Eventually a man comes with a wheelchair, I plonk myself into it and grab for Cooper. No, no, no I must not carry the baby on my lap, but I can cart 3 carry on suitcases and a hand bag that is OK but not the baby. Dave goes to push me and NO, NO, NO, the man is a specified wheel chair pusher and will not give it up. He takes off rather briskly and deposits us at immigration. WAIT we are told. Guess we aren’t going on the tour of the airport then!
Our party, a colleague of Dave’s was also with us were put through the back door of immigration, me still being pushed in my chair, effectively jumping a very long queue. We then get escorted to the departure gate and are given priority boarding onto the plane. No waiting in queues, this wheelchair thing is a great!!!!!!! Temporarily of course.
Our flight went off without a hitch; we all slept a little, ate a little and drunk a little – OK well more than a little.
Back in Perth, despite being told not to the Qantas staff had arranged a wheelchair to meet the plane for me. I was last off the plane but got express service through customs and immigration again so beat most of the passengers out of the terminal.
It was wonderful to be back home with my boys and hope one day to return to Hong Kong and take the kids with us.
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